


Dangerous Game

by QuillTea



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post Season 2, Riding, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillTea/pseuds/QuillTea
Summary: They were friends, absolutely, closer to each other than their interactions likely suggested. But perhaps too close, letting each other see the absolute worst. The animalistic urges, the more selfish tendencies, the constant pulling each other in just to let go when it was convenient. Always coming back. Again and again.----Din and Cobb play the same game, knowing it can't go on forever. But somehow, they just can't let go of each other.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of fun.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://quilltea.tumblr.com/)

This was a dangerous game they played and they knew it.

Din Djarin wouldn’t say he was addicted. To the relief, the ease, the break that let his sanity regrow a little longer.  _ No, not an addiction.  _ He was entirely capable of cutting this off, they both were, regardless of what comments Fett or Fennec or even Dune would drop. They all needed something to relax with, he’d snap back at them, and this was helping kick back the nicotine habit he’d started as a teenager so fuck off.

(He only used the nicotine excuse once. Fett had given him such an are-you-bullshitting-me look that Din swept it out of his mind.)

But he’d taken up bounty hunting again and the day-to-day routine was near impossible to get through without some kind of release. Ten years clean of cigarettes and he had no interest in going back, no interest in taking advantage of his targets’ dealer contacts that they so desperately offered as he was shoving them in the trunk of his car. He’d rub at his eyes and settle behind the wheel with a groan, feeling his joints whine at him, the headache that never seemed to go away. He was exhausted. Drained.

When it was too much, he’d grab his phone. Send off a text. And input an address without waiting for a reply. He had four bounty pucks stashed in his glove compartment but they could wait until after this, even if it meant he slept in his car for three days before Vanth let him in. He’d showed up with bad timing before, and on second thought, maybe Vanth wouldn’t be so keen to have him this time when he’d burst in completely unwarned of when the marshal had had a woman over.

So at the next red light, he grabbed his phone again.  _ If you’re not still mad. _

His calls had gone unanswered for a week after that.

It would be hours of a drive until he reached Mos Pelgo. Plenty of time for Vanth to know he was coming, plenty of time to get lost in his thoughts. As the light turned green, he eased onto the gas, eyes glancing both directions. And he fought the urge to glance into the back where a child’s seat no longer sat.

It was golden hour as he arrived in the tiny town and it was overwhelmingly warm rather than brutally scorching. That was something. This route took him through the main town first rather than the backroad Vanth lived on and the townspeople were out and about to walk and work. Heads turned as he drove in — a few waves. The acknowledgment was nice, to still have their favor, as if it would fade away. He always worried it would. That one day he would suddenly lose a haven at will.

Vanth still hadn’t responded to his texts.

But he drove through the town’s single traffic light and onwards towards the neighborhood. The houses were nicely spaced apart, all looking as old as they were, certainly no HOA demanding that the neighborhood look pretty and upscale. Several houses were unfinished renovation projects that were still ongoing or had been given up on halfway. Some were clear repairs from a fallen tree, the hacked stump nearby. Din watched it all before coming to Vanth’s driveway. The man’s car was gone and Din pulled in to park at the curb, biting his lip.

He looked down at his phone, tempted to call.

He hadn’t sat there for more than five minutes in his running car when there was a knock at his window and he  _ jumped,  _ hand flying for the gun at his hip. But instead of a threat, an older woman, Vanth’s neighbor from the left, peered down at him. “Waiting for the marshal?” she asked, voice muted through the glass.

Din let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Just missed ‘im,” she said. “He just got a call for a bar fight. Should be back soon.”

“Thank you,” Din said. As the woman turned away and began back towards her house, he let out a frustrated breath and reclined his seat back. He tugged his cap down lower over his eyes against the setting sun, but really falling limp had it shine right against his eyelids and with a further grumble he sat up again. He tried to crack both sides of his neck, biting back a huff.

He was wound tighter than a fucking spring.

It took another thirty minutes before Vanth’s car pulled into his driveway. Din had nearly fallen asleep until the sound of gravel beneath wheels drew him back and he sat up abruptly, turning back to look. He watched as Vanth got out of his truck and started in towards his porch. Din frowned and opened his door, getting out. He started up the slight hill of the lawn as Vanth fumbled with his keys.

“Cobb.”

“You have a key.”

Vanth shoved the key in and turned it, pushing the front door open. Din didn’t move, watching him as he stepped inside, and shifted his weight instead on the grass. “Last time I used the key, you wouldn’t talk to me for a week,” he said. “I texted you.”

“Got busy. Coming in?”

Din followed.

Vanth’s house was small, the cluttered house of a bachelor whose life happened everywhere but here. It was a place to sleep more than a home. Weeks ago when Din had walked in on Vanth and another woman, it had been the cleanest he’d ever seen it.

“You had a call?”

“Fight. Stupid disagreement, over by the time I got there. You want a drink?”

Din stood in the center of the living room, watching him disappear into the kitchen, and took a deep breath. “Yes.”

They weren’t usually like this. They were friends, absolutely, closer to each other than their interactions likely suggested. But perhaps too close, letting each other see the absolute worst. The animalistic urges, the more selfish tendencies, the constant pulling each other in just to let go when it was convenient. Always coming back. Again and again. When Din craved the safety and comforts of this, but wouldn’t commit to Cobb himself, and when Cobb settled for what Din would give but wasn’t going to be waiting for him forever.

The presence of another lover seemed to confirm it. That sooner or later Din would get a text not to come back, that Cobb had gotten tired of the unstable routine and loveless fucking and settled with the person he deserved. Din both dreaded and accepted it. Just hoped that somehow they’d land in the middle where they were still real friends. But who’d want their former fuck partner hanging around if they were starting a real family?

Cobb poured them both a glass and as Din came into the kitchen, sitting at the table with it, he’d force himself to enjoy the moment.

“How was she?”

“Who.”

Din looked up at him.

“... Jo.” Cobb looked back and took a sip. “You’re hooked up on that?”

“No.” He paused, swirling the whiskey around his glass. “... Yes. Just what I’m competing against, here.”

Cobb scoffed. “Well, it’s not like she showed up with a  _ strap,  _ so you’re not exactly competing on the same playing field if at all.”

Din smiled, but it fell flat. “You like her?”

“Oh, I’m  _ not  _ talking about this with you.” Cobb threw back the last of his whiskey. “Unless you wanna tell me about  _ Omera,  _ because that’s certainly never been my name.”

Din’s face flushed. He’d almost been able to forget when the wrong name slipped out, the awkwardness of them both trying to ignore it. “No,” he muttered. “Let’s not.”

He finished his whiskey and Cobb grabbed their glasses to take to the sink. Din watched before he was up and following. As the marshal rinsed out the glasses, Din stepped up at his back and slipped his arms around his waist, shoving him forward against the edge of the counter, and tugged down on his bandana. He leaned in to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “I need you,” he murmured. He pressed another kiss behind his ear, listening to the tiny exhale that Cobb released. “Please.”

“Just bought stuff.”

Cobb looked at him and Din smirked, leaning in to steal a real kiss before tugging him away from the sink. Cobb stumbled with a breathy laugh but regained his footing and let Din pull him down the hall to the bedroom. He turned the light on — a cool breeze came in from the window, a plastic shopping bag thrown on the unmade bed. As soon as Cobb came through the doorway, Din whipped around and shut it, planting his other hand against Cobb’s chest to push him back against it. Cobb’s back hit the door and Din kissed him in an instant, rough and demanding as both hands gripped the marshal’s shirt.

“Fuck, Din,” Cobb gasped as they parted. Din kissed him again to shut him up, hands working at his shirt. He tugged the rustic fabric off Cobb’s shoulders and the man squirmed out of it, the shirt dropped to the floor, quick to do it in return. He pulled at Din’s shirt until he tugged it over his head.

It was a somewhat familiar dance to get clothing off. Din pulled off both Cobb’s belts, then shoving the fabric down off his hips. Cobb kicked his pants off but grabbed Din by his waist, forcing him around until they’d switched positions. For a moment Din was stunned as his back hit the cool door and then Cobb dropped down on his knees, unzipped the front of Din’s jeans. “Uh,” was all Din could get out, when Cobb pulled his jeans and boxers lower to slip his cock out.

He was half-hard but as Cobb took him into his mouth, full hardness didn’t take long at all. “Shit!” Din gasped, reaching down to dig his fingers into Cobb’s hair. “Fuck. Fuck.”

The man was far too talented with his mouth. He could take all of Din into his throat, nose brushing against his belly and hands firmly pushing his hips back against the door. Din let out a small whimper and tightened his grip on his hair, guiding him into a faster pace that Cobb moved with. He looked down and the marshal was looking up at him, eyes wide and face reddened, Din’s cock disappearing into his throat again and again until his orgasm was nearly built. Din tilted his head back, taking deep breaths.  _ “Cobb—” _

A hand grabbed his wrist and Cobb pulled off, out of breath. Din let out a frustrated groan while Cobb just grinned as he got up off his knees. “Thought you wanted to fuck me, babe.”

“God, you fucking  _ tease.” _

Din shoved Cobb towards the bed, none too gently, and the marshal just laughed as he stumbled and caught his balance. He only felt more pent up by the denied orgasm, if that were even possible, and growled as he followed. “You bought stuff.”

Cobb laid himself back on the bed and grabbed the shopping bag, rummaging through it. “You texted you were coming, so I—”

“What  _ stuff.” _

“God, you’re being demand—” Cobb cut off, his breath hitching as Din grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back down onto the bed. He stared up at him for a moment, words lost, pupils  _ wide  _ with lust. He loved being manhandled, Din knew, and he barely hid a smirk when such a display could crack the man’s cool exterior. “... Uh. Got… more lube. Um, condoms, gloves — just, all of it.”

“Mm.” Din swept the plastic from his hands. As he’d said, there was a new bottle of lubricant, box of condoms, small box of medical gloves. He opened the gloves first, tugging out one to slip on, and grabbed the bottle as Cobb squirmed out of his briefs. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Din pushed up to kneel between his thighs. He covered two fingers in lubricant and slipped his hand down, quick to find the hole he wanted. Cobb drew in a breath, reaching up to grab his shoulder and tug him down, and Din bent with him as his finger pushed inside. The tiny hitch that escaped Cobb was arousing in itself, wrapping his arms around Din’s shoulders to hold him down, and Din turned to catch his lips in a kiss. He thrust his finger slowly until Cobb relaxed, and then added a second.

It was familiar. This was how they did it always, and Cobb’s mouth was warm and smooth against his own. Always talented. It hurt to think of losing these kisses to someone else, and so Din just kissed him more fiercely, biting his lower lip as he thrust his fingers. Cobb let out the slightest whimper, and finally their mouths parted for Din to go after his throat. He started to bite and suck at the skin, adding a third finger in, and paused only for adding more lube. Cobb moaned and drew his knee in, fingers digging into Din’s back.

“You’re gonna —  _ ffff —  _ Din!”

Cobb tightened all around him as his fingers nudged into that tiny bundle of nerves and panted. He was hard and leaking, his cock a rosy color, as pre-cum dripped onto his belly. Din kissed at his collarbone, moving to suck at the soft flesh of his shoulder. Cobb turned and grabbed at Din’s bicep as he moaned. “Fucking —  _ there…” _

Din had a smirk on his face as this time, he was the one to pull back too soon, and Cobb groaned as his fingers pulled out. “Dammit,” he breathed, tilting his head back — showing off the pretty assortment of bites Din had left against his pale skin. “Hurry up.”

Din chuckled and reached for the box of condoms, tearing it open and grabbing out one. He opened it and rolled it down his cock before coating himself in more lube. He tossed the glove aside. The marshal took deep breaths and looked up at him with wide eyes, dark with want, and Din grabbed his thighs to drag him in closer. “Fuck,” he breathed, giving himself a few lazy strokes. He tugged Cobb’s knee over his hip and lined himself up. “Fuck…”

Cobb kept his breathing deep as Din pushed inside him. He let out a soft moan, and Din slowly pushed until he was fully seated, encased by the man’s warmth. He dropped another swear as their hips met. “Shit,” Cobb breathed, looking up, and Din looked back down.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

Din rocked his hips forward and Cobb took another shuddering breath. He wrapped his legs around Din’s waist, ankles hooking behind him, one hand dropping to grasp his cock. Din dropped his weight on an elbow and took deep breaths, still rocking until he gave a harsh thrust. Cobb gasped, legs squeezing around him.

“Din—“

Din cut him off with a kiss. He started on a rougher pace, his own moan muffled by Cobb’s lips, as he drove forward. Cobb’s hand was quick on his own cock, stroking up and down, and Din grabbed both his wrists to slam them down above his head. He didn’t want this to finish soon. He wanted it drawn out, this moment, a little longer. He rolled his hips, digging deeper, relishing in Cobb’s gasps and soft moans beneath him. He licked into the man’s mouth, demanding the control, and Cobb only took it in.

_ More than stress relief. _

The warm sun shone through the window, lighting up the skin across Din’s back, golden light and shadows both playing over Cobb’s face. His hair was mussed and wild, eyes shining in the light, and for a moment Din almost stopped to take it in.

_ “Din,”  _ Cobb huffed.

Still a release all the same.

He slowed his pace but landed each thrust just as hard, focus shifting to leaving more bites along the other side of Cobb’s throat. “You’re mine,” he breathed, thoughts creeping in of another finding such marks and  _ knowing  _ Din had been there first. Then the thought of another just made him bite in harder, forcing a hiss from Cobb, who squirmed but didn’t demand a stop. Din withdrew and moved lower. Gripped him tighter. He was content to keep his mouth occupied with marking Cobb up, sucking each hickey into place with redness that was unmistakable.

“Harder,” Cobb begged. Din slipped his arms around his waist with an iron grip. “H-Harder, come  _ on.” _

Din hissed and picked up the pace back to a rougher speed. Cobb grabbed at his shoulders, letting out a whimper, fingernails digging into his skin. One hand was thrown back to grab at the pillows, the bed frame creaking beneath them, whining at the relentless rocking. Cobb was a gorgeous sight beneath him as he squirmed. “Fuck,” Din panted. “God,  _ fuck,  _ Cobb.”

“Turn. Wait, just — flip.”

Cobb pushed at his shoulders and Din relented. He pulled out and rolled over onto his back. Cobb got up and over, grabbing the bottle of lube to squirt more in his hand, and smeared it over Din’s cock in a quick stroke before he straddled his waist. Din grabbed at his hips, already letting out a breath, before Cobb even could sit back. He held Din in place before lining him up and sank down, both letting out soft moans. Cobb stared at him with darkened eyes and parted lips, taking deep breaths before planting his hands against the bed and starting to rock.

“God,” Cobb breathed. His rhythm was off and he paused to adjust but finally found his speed, lifting and dropping into Din’s lap. Din threw his head back with a groan, grabbing the back of Cobb’s knees, and rolled his hips up. “Fucking missed you — feeling  _ this  _ good, Jesus—“

Din looked down and nearly came then at the sight of Cobb riding him — flushed, marked up, looking a hot-as-fuck mess. He moaned and thrust up to meet him again, hands sliding up to his hips, his waist. He was gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous.

He shoved himself up, grabbing Cobb by the nape of his neck to tug into a kiss. Cobb grabbed his shoulder and his moan was muffled by Din’s lips. He kept canting his hips and grinding himself down, drawing out little hisses and moans from Din, until he couldn’t take much more and Din grabbed his hips to slow him. “Gonna —  _ wait.” _

Cobb stared down at him, panting for breath. “You can—”

“Not yet.”

He wanted more time.

Cobb’s brows furrowed, but he grabbed onto Din and drew him into another kiss. They kissed a second time and third before he leaned in, breath ghosting along the edge of his jaw, and kissed behind Din’s ear. Din took a shaky breath. “Tell me what you want, then,” he murmured.

“You.”

Cobb paused, his fingers digging in. “You don’t.”

“No, I—”

“Shut  _ up.” _

Cobb kissed him again, now with more force, and ground himself down again. Din stared at him with wide eyes but squeezed them shut as he kissed back. He hadn’t come here for feelings. He pulled back from the kiss and grabbed Cobb’s knee to throw them over, growling as he forced the emotions back, kissing him again. He pulled back and tapped Cobb’s hip, prompting the man to get up and onto his hands and knees.

“You gonna actually  _ fuck  _ me or not?” Cobb snapped.

_ Fuck that attitude out of you. _

He gave himself another stroke of lube before mounting him, shoving Cobb’s knees apart with his own. He pushed inside and Cobb dropped onto his forearms with a groan. “Shit,” he breathed, and Din huffed before beginning his thrusts again. “Shit.  _ Fuck me,  _ Din, just give me it!”

His fingers dug into Cobb’s hips, dragging him back onto every harsh thrust. The heat was back and Din dropped forward onto his hands, one arm wrapping around Cobb’s waist, chest against his back. He panted, hot all over, orgasm lurking near even as he couldn’t quite reach it. Cobb tightened around him, heat clenching around Din’s cock, and he panted as his mouth ran.

“Right — right there, Din,  _ shit,  _ gonna — God, could cum just from you, just your —  _ please,  _ Din, Din, just…”

A hand grabbed at his arm, nails scratching, digging in. Their skin slapped together. Cobb’s other hand grabbed desperately at the pillow as the sun lowered, leaving them in near darkness. His mind was on autopilot, chasing the feeling of release, and he drove inside Cobb again and again. He growled, burying his face in the back of Cobb’s shoulder as he panted, just at the edge. He  _ wasn’t  _ letting go.

Instead, he forced them both to straighten up, his arm an iron bar across Cobb’s waist. Din shoved his face in against Cobb’s neck and  _ moaned,  _ thrusting in once and twice before his hips stilled. Cobb’s hand reached back, digging into his hair to grip, and Din breathed heavily. His cock throbbed, filling the condom, and slowly the tension left him. His arms loosened and instead he leaned onto Cobb.

“Din.”

Din took a deep breath, then slipped his hand down to Cobb’s length. It was hard as anything, tip slick with precum, and as Din stroked him he gasped and let out a whimper. “Shit,” he breathed out, and arched his back up. His fingers tightened in Din’s hair. “Fuck, fuck fuck—”

“Gorgeous.” Din tugged around his waist to hold him where he was. His hand moved fast on his cock, pressed up tight against his back, and ran his thumb over the head. He grinded against him, as much as his soft length would allow. “Kiss me.”

Cobb turned his head and their lips met in a kiss. Din took his mouth, swallowing every whimper and gasp, until every part of Cobb tensed. He gasped against Din’s lips and gripped his hair, thrusting forward into Din’s hand. “Din.” It came out like a whine as he panted. Cum dribbled over his hand in spurts, and Din kept lazily stroking him through it. “Fuck…”

“Lay down.”

He eased himself out of Cobb and guided them both into laying on their sides. As Cobb caught his breath again, Din turned over and grabbed a tissue off the bedside table, wiping off his hand. He peeled off the condom, tossing it aside to the floor, then slumped down onto the bed with a groan. The exhaustion was creeping in. Less knotted up, sure, but he could sleep a million years in a real bed now.

The room had fallen dark. Cobb reached up to turn on a lamp and Din blinked at the bright light. Cobb turned over to face him, dragging up the sheets over their legs, and he let out a soft sigh. “Better?”

“Better.”

They fell quiet. Cobb watched him, then drew in a breath and turned onto his back. “Something push you over?” he asked. “Or just the routine.”

“Last puck was another kid.”

Cobb looked at him.

“Older. Teenager. Pulled some shit and ran. But… Too close.” Din let his eyes shut and took in a long, deep breath. “Fuck. Just… all in my head.” The kid he’d given up was still an open wound and Karga had only nodded in sympathy when Din turned that puck down. But it was all building up.

Cobb was quiet. He got up, then, and Din watched him disappear through the door — a slight tenderness to his gait. A few minutes later, he returned again with a bottle and two glasses. Din turned over onto his side and watched as he poured them both a glass. “Think we both need it,” he muttered.

“Right.”

They drank, and talked, until the small hours when Cobb finally passed out — talking one moment, snoring the next. Din watched him. He carefully reached over and turned off the light, and laid down beside him, following into dreamless sleep.

They weren’t hungover the next morning, instead having enough energy to have another go. Din was barely awake when he stumbled into the bathroom and came back to Cobb drawing him into kisses, a warm hand around his cock. Then he was in Din’s lap, having already prepped himself, easing onto Din’s cock bare. Din grabbed at him, breathless, and bucked his hips up.

“Fuck,” Cobb breathed.

When he was more awake, Din rolled them over. He thrust inside as he worked Cobb’s cock in his hand, jerking hard and fast as he rolled his hips, and Cobb panted beneath him. He came with a strained whimper, release spurting onto his own belly, and Din soon followed. He buried himself deep with a moan and both panted, wrapped up tight in each other, slow to come down from the high. Din took deep breaths and buried his face in Cobb’s shoulder.

“That’s one way to wake up,” he muttered.

Cobb chuckled and pushed at him. “Shoulda put a condom on you,” he muttered. “Let me shower.”

“I’ll get in after.”

He pulled out, not missing the opportunity to take in the sight of his cum dribbling out of Cobb, and slumped back onto the bed. He reclined back and watched the other man get up, nearly tripping over their clothes. The door to the bathroom shut behind Cobb and Din listened to the sound of the shower turning on. He stared up at the ceiling and let out a quiet breath, eyes fluttering shut, and he ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it back.

_ What are you doing here? _

The sun shone through the opposite window, golden streaks creeping across the floor. He turned over to lie on his belly, shifting beneath the blankets, until he fell still. He watched the streaks on the floor. His shirt was lit up, his jeans just in the shade. The birds were singing but he didn’t feel so joyful.

He felt… empty.

From the shower came soft humming and for a few minutes, he just slumped in place. He could stay longer. Cobb would let him. Shower, dress, eat, hang around as he went off to work until he was back. Fuck some more until they were exhausted and boneless. He’d made this place his sanctuary before, when he’d pissed off the wrong person during a hunt and needed a place like this — not even on a map — to lay low. But the longer he thought on it, the more the guilt grew. The look in Cobb’s eyes when Din left again. The goodbyes that always felt so final. Like Cobb anticipated him disappearing off the face of the earth, never calling again.

Taking out their frustrations on each other. Shoving down feelings for mindless sex. Both trying to block out that Cobb wanted more when Din wouldn’t give it.  _ Couldn’t  _ give it. What would he  _ do  _ here — play deputy? Tiny life in a tiny town? It had been so tempting with Omera but Sorgan had been… a different place.

Cobb wasn’t Omera.

With an ache in his chest, he wrenched himself up and out of bed. Thrown on the desk was a notebook and collection of pens. He grabbed it, opening to a blank page, and clicked a pen.

_ Thanks for drinks _ _   
_ _ Hope things work out with Jo - staying out of your way _ _   
_ __ Call if you need me

_ — Din _

He was… still tired. He turned and tossed the notebook on the center of the bed, then grabbed his clothes off the floor and started to dress. Combing his hair back with fingers, rubbing his eyes to wake up. Socks and shoes, tied laces, pacing the room to make sure he had everything off the floor. He kept glancing at the notebook. The guilt sat in his stomach like a hot stone but  _ this is better.  _ It would turn out better. No emotional goodbye to make him change his mind, no awkwardness, letting Cobb be the one to reach out if…

If he really wanted to keep this going.

But the man deserved better.

His heart was heavy but Din would harden. Just as the water shut off in the bathroom, he stepped out of the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. He’d grab breakfast to go at the diner. Speed off into the desert. Pretend it was all fine. Eventually, it would be, Cobb would take the out and Din would… find something else.

A drink, to start with.

He got back in his car. Turned the key, the engine humming to life. No cars on the street — he peeled away from the curb. Nothing from Cobb, no call or text or throwing open the front door. Just silence and the comfort of slipping away from his decisions while blanketed in it.

He reached for the glove compartment.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://quilltea.tumblr.com/)


End file.
